Crazy Diamond
by Lucid Luci
Summary: Future!Fic. AU. Rachel/Puck. Rachel, Quinn, and Finn are all famous... so when the tabloids start spreading false rumors about them, they hatch a plan to get the cameras off their back. The plan is pretty much Puck. Bad summary is bad, just click.
1. Chapter 1: Glass Houses

**A/N:** So, this is my first _Glee_ fic. After not writing for more than three years, Rachel/Puck yanked me out of my comfortable cocoon of Not Writing and threw me head first in to writing the longest frucking intro I've ever written for a fanfic, ever. It's rated M for now because I highly anticipate a lot of Mature things happening in chapters to come. It will most likely become MA later on. Its title is from Pink Floyd, as I have an unhealthy obsession with all things Pink Floyd. And, I really like titling fics with "Crazy", apparently.

It has not be beta'd and I am saddened by this fact, I do hope it isn't terribly obvious, though.

I have a vague sense of where I'm going with this but I'm open to ideas. ;) Enjoy.

_**Crazy Diamond**_

The city was at her feet. Literally. As she gazed down at tops of cars, taxi cabs, umbrellas, she felt a sense of relief. The paparazzi couldn't possibly zoom this high up from all the way down there, could they? Rachel peeked down suspiciously at the building across from her, noticing the curtains swaying with the strength of the wind. Once satisfied a camera wasn't peeking through the blinds, she sat down on her chaise lounge and flipped through the latest tabloid stating in big bold letters how "Rachel Berry and the Giants' Finn Hudson were secretly meeting every night at Ritz Carlton Hotel while his pregnant wife was nowhere in sight." With a snort, she threw it in the trash and shook her head. Why her cast mates thought it was funny to leave this trash in front of her dressing room door was beyond her. Why she brought it home in the first place? Well, fact or fiction, she was always curious what the media would make up when she was a big star. Now that she was, she realized they weren't very imaginative. Or smart. Rachel and Finn had been best friends since middle school; could the media blame them for keeping their friendship? If Quinn didn't, she couldn't comprehend why the reporters wouldn't leave it alone. Every interview, no matter what, she had to answer whether or not they have ever "dated" and how brilliant her and Quinn Fabray got along. What did it matter? Didn't they care about the rave reviews "_Jubilee_" got? Playing the cold daughter of a couple separating on their 50th anniversary was no small feat. Rachel Berry was used to playing the upbeat, optimistic character…not a cynical woman who doesn't even mourn her parent's divorce. The songs she sang were quick and angry, nothing like Rachel ever studied…did the media even mention she might be nominated for the Tony Award "Best Performance of a Leading Actress in a Musical"? No. When Finn was scouted by the NY Giants, she couldn't be happier, her best friend moving to New York? A dream come true…aside from being the lead in a hit play, of course. Now, she couldn't even be seen with him alone without rumors flying of his imminent divorce.

When the media first got wind of her performance in "_Jubilee_", she got her first real two-page spread in "New York Arts Magazine". Little did she know it would be the last time anyone interviewed her about her career and _not_ her non-existent love life. Every newspaper or gossip blog these days only cared about how much she went out with Finn. They would crop Quinn out of the picture and pretend she was sitting at home twiddling her thumbs while her husband went rampant on the town with Rachel. It was repellent and she couldn't take any more of the lies, Quinn didn't deserve this…none of them did. Looking at her watch, she wondered what was taking Quinn so long. It usually took her 10 minutes from their place on the West Side to travel through Central Park to Rachel's condo on the East. They had plans to order in and watch _A Chorus Line _(for the hundredth time,) usually Friday nights included making appearances at certain gallery openings or celebrity charity functions. Tonight they were too exhausted and fed up with the tabloids splashing their faces on every cover for the wrong reasons. Quinn Fabray-Hudson was, other than Finn, her best friend. Of course, they hated each other in High School. Quinn was the snobby cheer leader and Rachel, the drama geek. One day auditions opened up for Glee Club and they were both standing in line, funny enough…Quinn was only there because she had a crush on the Glee director, Mr. Shue. Now Quinn was her co-star in _Jubilee_, playing her father's mistress and doing a phenomenal job at it. The angry duets they did every Tuesday and Friday night only made the fictitious stories about them spread even more. The door bell rang, breaking Rachel out of the loop her thoughts were stuck in and she jumped up to open the door. Quinn stood there, soaked to the bone with a broken umbrella in one hand and a bag of Chinese in the other.

"Hungry?" Quinn asked, laughing as she threw what was left of her umbrella in the trash.

Rachel ran for a towel, "Oh my god! I didn't realize how bad it got out there! Why didn't you take a cab?"

Quinn shrugged off her jacket and took the towel from Rachel to dry off her hair, "I did! This was from the walk from the curb down that damn mile long entrance this building has in front. Why couldn't you move in to a place that had the doorman closer to the street?" she laughed and kicked her shoes off.

"I love that entrance. I can sneak out without the paparazzi even realizing I left!" Rachel gathered a change of clothes for Quinn and set the tea. "Did the wind do that to your umbrella before you even got in?" she asked.

"It got caught in one of those thorny rose bushes your maintenance people haven't taken care of yet," Quinn's words were muffled through the cloth of the sweatshirt she was sliding over her head. "You know, there's a guy that fixes the heat in my church that can totally take care of that for you." Quinn winked.

"Is that another euphemism?" Rachel arched a brow.

"It's whatever you want it to be," Quinn chuckled and started to unpack the food on to the coffee table. "I am a little serious, though; remember how you said you wanted to date a normal guy? One without all the dramatic flair from theater and the ego to go along with it?"

"I suppose I did say something to that effect, yes. I didn't, however, allude to the idea of dating maintenance men, thank you very much." Rachel huffed.

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you tried it. He's actually pretty damn hot. And he's just a super by day, anyway. At night he plays with his band at places all up and down the city." Quinn nodded, "Yeah, I tried to get him to lead Guitar Lessons for our church once but he turned me down, said it wouldn't feel right since he was Jew-"Suddenly Quinn's eyes flashed. "He's Jewish!"

Rachel laughed and shook her head. "And?"

"Your parents would absolutely adore a Jewish Son in Law." Quinn stated, nodding enthusiastically.

"Yes and their parents would have absolutely adored them bringing home _Daughter_ in Laws." Rachel dead panned, "Look, you bring up my garden's messy rose bush and suddenly we're discussing my future Jewish husband who can't decide between fixing pipes and strumming guitars?"

Quinn made a face, "Well, when you put it that way it just sounds weird."

"Do you even know this guy's name? I mean, what if he's some psycho and you're just perfectly willing to send me off with him so I can end up like Natalie Wood but except for drowning, I would be murdered at dusk in Central Park." Rachel took a breath and continued, "How cruel to die across the street from your own home?"

"Dramatic much?" Quinn picked up her chopsticks and started to fumble with her Chow Mein, "I think his name is Noah. Does that sound like a psycho stalker killer to you?"

"I said nothing of stalking, just killing. And just because he has a beautiful name does not imply he won't hesitate to end my life." Rachel nodded and took a sip of her tea, thoughtful. "Though I suppose if the media caught wind of my little tête à tête with Mr. Noah, perhaps they would desist from fabricating all those stories of Finn and I. Even if in the end it does shorten my life."

Quinn coughed on her food, laughing at her friend's dramatic solution to their ever growing problem with the tabloids. "How about you just meet the guy first? I mean, before you start creating the playlist to your own funeral."

"If you insist," Rachel clicked the TV on, "Pretending to be in a relationship to get myself out of a made-up relationship is just the only next logical step, I suppose."

"If this works, we might be able to go out in public again…" Quinn sighed, lost in the fantasy.


	2. Chapter 2: Mercury Rising

**A/N: **Thank you for the kind reviews and everyone who added this to their "favorites",I know it's a slow start but it'll be very Puck/Rachel heavy in the next chapter. This still isn't beta'd but I figure I'll find one before the ending, haha.

Oh, Mark Salling is actually in a band called Jericho…I took some liberties with their genre (by not fully disclosing them). The Mercury Lounge is an actual lounge in NYC but their stage isn't as big as I made it out to be and I kindly added curtains and a backstage. Generous, no?

The following day Rachel, Quinn, and Finn all headed over to Babies R Us in New Jersey because according to Rachel, the paparazzi never followed celebrities outside of New York because they're afraid they would get stuck and it's hard to take pictures when you're caught in traffic. Finn decided it was better than getting trapped in another mob of cameras desperate to push him and Rachel together for another misleading "scandalous" photo. Suddenly listening in on the discussion that was happening before him, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"So, let me get this straight." Finn glanced between his crazy wife and even crazier friend, "You're going to go on a blind date with Puck from Jericho?"

"Huh?" Rachel threw him a look, "Who in the world is Puck? I'm going out with _Noah _from your church. Also, I believe we're all getting ahead of ourselves, I don't even have a 'date' with him, and we were just discussing how we can approach this situation tastefully and with decorum."

Finn burst out laughing. "First of all, Puck is Noah's nickname, secondly…I don't think anyone can tastefully propose a fake relationship for the sake of fooling the media, but if anyone can I guess it would be you, Rach." Finn steered their cart in to the toy lane and continued, "by the way, he isn't from our church he just fixes things at our church. And his band is called Jericho."

Quinn put down the baby elephant she was enthralled with to catch up on the conversation, "Oh, so you heard him play? Is he any good?"

"I haven't heard him play, actually." Finn said, "One of the guys on the team said that his band is playing in the city tonight, we can go if you want."

Rachel crossed her arms, "I'm not even sure I want to be set up with him, as Quinn and I were discussing last night, this may very well just be a façade for the media…if _Noah_ agrees to it, that is" She paused, lost in thought, ".…I wonder if he knows any power ballads?"

Finn chuckled. "I guess that idea is as good as any, if you really want to go through the trouble."

"I would much rather go through _that_ trouble than this awful nuisance we're already in." Rachel frowned, "Wait, how are we going to get in without being recognized?"

Finn shrugged as he placed their items on the check-out counter, "Wigs?"

Quinn snorted, "A wig isn't going to make me any less pregnant. I'm surprised the paps don't know the exact height and weight of our unborn child." Finn dropped a kiss on Quinn's head and rubbed her back, he wished more than anything the people would re-focus their attention on Robert Pattinson again but ever since _Breaking Dawn_ hit theaters, the Twilight mania abruptly fizzled down. A woman trying on a 9-month pregnant belly near the dressing room suddenly stole Finn's attention. Grinning wide he said, "I got an idea."

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"This is utterly ridiculous!" Rachel yelled from the other room. "Won't _two_ pregnant women just draw even more unnecessary attention to us? I mean, we're going to a club! Pregnant women typically restrain from going to clubs in their third trimester." She was sure of it.

"It'll be fine, Berry, just put the damn thing on!" Quinn yelled back. "You'll have an idea of how I feel now!"

"But I don't _want_ an idea! I'm fantastic without any ideas!" Rachel's voice grew louder as she neared the living room where Finn and Quinn were waiting. The fake belly poked through her wrap-around emerald green woven dress and she adjusted her straps again, worrying her bottom lip. The wig she wore was a lighter shade brown than her own and it was crimped all around, she had a scarf wrapped around her neck ready to cover half of her face upon entrance, in case anyone recognized her face. Breaking the silence she asked, "Am I Rachel Berry anymore?" She twirled and curtsied.

Quinn smiled and shook her head, "Not at all." She picked up a strand of her own wig and twirled the red locks, "How about me? Am I still Fabray?"

"Well, you wouldn't be any more if you would just take my damn name." Finn muttered.

"Finn, my love, we discussed this. Broadway stars need their maiden name; they'd be unrecognizable without it." Quinn declared.

"All the better! Isn't that what we're trying to do now?" Finn asked. "And, I heard somewhere that the reason they don't is because most of you Broadway starlets marry too many times to even _keep_ a new name."

Quinn held back a laugh, "That's rich! You hear that, Rach? No taking Noah's name."

"I didn't even realize we were betrothed." Rachel grinned. "However, since we're already on the topic… once more, what's our main purpose of our attendance tonight?"

"Operation "Rachel Has New Rocking Man in her Life"? Quinn ventured, smirking.

"Precisely! And how do we respond to Noah asking about my fake pregnancy?"

"Studying a role you're auditioning for….?" Finn asked.

"Yes, but we need to have more details prepared... I suppose we can go over them in on the way, in either event we can't look too conspicuous!" She adjusted her wig and fake belly once more before starting for the door.

"Right, not conspicuous. Good." Quinn said, laughing at Rachel's fake pregnant waddle.

_-_-_-_-_-__-_-

Puck retuned his guitar for what must have been the 20th time that night, something was off and he was going to find out what, even if it meant missing his intro. This was the performance the whole band's been waiting for, to play at _The Mercury Lounge_ and finally get an audience bigger than 50 drunken people who would sing along to anything. One other band went on before them and got the crowd nice and revved up and if Puck's guitar didn't start sounding right, he was going to smash it against the wall and possibly break down sobbing.

"What the hell are you doing, man? The show's in ten and there's at least 200 people out there. We need to be on our game tonight." Mike Chang said as he snuck a peek through the curtain. "We're fuckin' dead if this goes wrong at all."

"You fart pearls of wisdom, Mike, thanks. Tell me how this sounds," Puck started to strum, "I'm in loooove with a stripperrrr…she rockin', she rollin'" Laughing to himself, he put his tuner down, finally satisfied with the sound.

"You serious, dude?" Mike laughed, "We would be run out of this hipster club faster than you can blink."

"You hating on my warm-up song, Mike?" Puck laughed.

"Nah, man, I dig a little T-Pain, not sure what'll happen if we try to work him in to that emo song we're about to play, though." Mike said, amused.

"Um, guys? We're 7 and a half minutes away from not having any more gigs, ever, if you don't get your booties on that stage right now!" Kurt yelled, looking at this watch. "I know I'm adorable but I assume you hired me as your manager for more than my looks, correct?"

"Wait, so you're a manager, too?" Puck winked as he strapped his guitar on.

"Ha-ha, you guys won't be joking for long when you see how many celebrities we have out there!" Kurt practically squealed, "I already see Rachel Berry in disguise hiding in the corner with the fine Finn Hudson…."

"Who?" Puck plugged in his amp and adjusted the volume.

"Did you just ask me who? Finn Hudson? Quarter back and stud muffin of the New York Giants?" Kurt helped the other guys flip their equipment on.

"I know who he is but who's Rachel Berry? She can't be that famous, I never heard of her." Puck said. "And what in the hell kinda last name is 'Berry'?"

"Rachel Berry is the star of _Jubilee_…the Broadway sensation? Ring any bells?" Kurt asked, flabbergasted.

"This chick from this church I fix things at is on Broadway but I'm not really in to that scene." Puck said.

"Well, whatever, you don't know what you're missing. That girl is fantastic…" Kurt trailed off as he snuck another look at her. "Oh my god! Rachel is pregnant too? I wonder if he knocked both of them up? Oh, he's so hot." Kurt sighed. Then, "OW! What did you do that for?"

Puck gestured to the clock, "We're on in under a minute, dude, get off the stage!"

"Okay, okay!" Kurt called out, hurrying off to join the crowd and take a closer look at Rachel and Finn.

-_-_-_-_-_-_


	3. Chapter 3: Smoke Signs

**A/N:** I know I said there'd be more Puck/Rachel but I realized they needed even **more** build up. Sue me. Or wait, no suing! Because I only own the rights to the plot summary of _Jubiliee_. And considering it's not an actually hit musical on Broadway, my rights are for shit.

These chapters will be replaced soon… as soon as I get them back from the dry cleaners, where they'll come back smelling beta fresh. It's 4AM, my Yanks lost, and my jokes are stale.

Enjoy!

-_-_-_-_-_-_

Upon realizing that the type of crowd The Mecury Lounge drew did not, in fact, include the Broadway Elite, Rachel decided the belly wasn't necessary and quickly excused herself to the ladies' room. Before she could get her hand on the knob, a hand patted her shoulder and asked, "Excuse me, are you Rachel Berry?" She cringed and slowly turned around, expecting to sign another CD or Playbill. Instead, a short guy dressed to the nines in the latest Armani greeted her, empty handed but wide-grinned.

"I'm so sorry to intrude but I couldn't help myself, my name is Kurt Hummel and I am, without a question, your biggest fan." Kurt took a deep breath, "which is why I was shocked to see…" he motioned to her protruding belly.

"Oh!" Rachel laughed, like what she was about to say was the funniest thing, ever, even though it probably _was_ pretty funny, she couldn't think of all the reasons they all thought of in the taxi ride over here. "Uh, well, you see, it's…fake. I'm, well, studying a case. A character. A new character for a movie I'm auditioning for, she's pregnant and so I thought I could get in to that mindset by wearing this out in public." She fumbled over her words and finally cut herself off, smiling wide and nodding enthusiastically.

Kurt looked heartbroken, "Oh my god, Rachel Berry is hitting the big screen? You're not leaving _Jubilee_, are you? I mean, they can't go on with that play without you, please don't leave the play! I've been to at least 5 shows and I was there once when your understudy had to step in for the first part of the second number because you were stuck at La Guardia, and let me tell you a thing a two about a thing or two…she wasn't any Rachel Berry!" Kurt took a deep breath, "Please?"

Rachel started to laugh again and hugged Kurt, surprising him. It took him a full three seconds to realize Rachel Berry was hugging him before he returned it, jumping up and down in her arms. She took a step back and said, "You have nothing to worry about, Kurt Hummel, I was just about to change out of the belly. I realized I loved Broadway and New York has been so kind to me, I couldn't possibly leave it for LA." She smiled, "and you! You just gave me the best review I've heard, well, ever. Thank you."

Kurt took her hand and kissed the back of it, "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Berry. I do have one question, however, if you don't mind?"

Rachel braced herself and thought, 'Please don't let it be about Finn, please don't let it be about Finn…' Aloud, she said, "Not at all, what would you like to ask me?"

"Is it true about Finn Hudson?"

_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-

As the first song ended, Finn glanced back toward the ladies' room, confused. "How long does it take to take that belly off? She missed a whole song."

"Good question, if it only takes me 3 minutes and 35 seconds to lose my stomach, I'd fly away on my rainbow colored Unicorn in celebration." Quinn said. "She is taking a bit long, though, I'm going to go see what's up, don't let the busboy take the rest of my chips!"

"Okay, honey." Finn nodded absently, caught up in the next song.

Making her way through the crowd, she finally saw Rachel sitting at a nearby booth chatting with some weird man in a shiny suit. Clearing her throat, she asked, "What's going on here?"

Rachel looked up, laughing. "Quinn! This is Kurt Hummel, my biggest fan!"

"Oh my god, Quinn Fabray as I live and breathe. You're a sight to behold!" Kurt got up to shake her hand.

Amused beyond words, Quinn let Kurt take her hand as she joined them at a bigger, more secluded booth. "Pleased to meet you, Kurt. I was just wondering where my Rach went. What are you guys discussing?" Quinn slid in closer to Rachel, trying to catch a glimpse at her stomach to see if she got it off in time before her biggest fan spotted her and sold the pictures he probably took with his cell phone to the highest bidder on EBay.

"How cute, you guys have nick names for each other! Well, as I was just telling 'Rach' here, I am an inspiring fashion designer by day and by night I manage the band that is playing on stage right now."

Quinn choked on her drink. "No shit?"

"Oh, I know it's weird, right? Their sound is so..rugged, while I'm so proper and clean. But it works! I get them the gigs they need at the places they want and in return they're giving me the experience I need to become a famous music producer/manager mogul…I'd be able to scout talent as far as Alaska. Not that I'd want to go to Alaska, I mean, I'd probably be able to pull off the fur coat but once I got back to New York I'd get red paint thrown on me and to be honest I got enough red slushies thrown on me in high school."

"I can't believe it." Quinn managed to say, laughing whole heartedly. "I finally found someone who talks more than Rachel."

Rachel gasped, "Exaggeration! I tactfully and candidly express myself, there is a difference."

"Did you just compare me to Rachel? Oh, my night is complete. Now all I need is for you ladies to give my blooming boys a positive review and I can die a happy man."

"Actually, the only reason we came here was to see your boys. Er, one of them at least." Quinn said, ready to disclose their plan.

"You see, Kurt, I'm sure you've noticed that my name these days has been always strung along with the words 'affair' and the name 'Finn'. None of which is in the slightest increment, true, at all." Rachel continued, "We, well, Quinn knew Noah from her church and suggested I meet him. I would be able to meet him in public…in front of cameras and we'd be just hanging out. You get it?"

"So, what you're getting at is…you want to use my dear Puck in some random scheme to redirect the spotlight on you and him, not you and Finn?" Kurt laughed, "Oh, look at me, I'm rhyming today!"

"Precisely, but I really wouldn't call it 'using' more as, um, meeting?" Rachel frowned, worried Kurt would be offended. "It really isn't all that big of a deal, I mean, I figured it wouldn't hurt to meet him and it's not like he wouldn't know about it. If he even agrees, that is."

"Oh, he'll agree to it, alright. Do you know how major this would be to his career? That amount of recognition will sky rocket his band to the top." Kurt smiled, devilishly, "excellent."

"But, I mean, I'm not certain…I just kind of wanted to meet him first, see if we're on the same page?" Rachel looked over at the stage, trying to get a glimpse of him but the booth they were sitting at was tucked far in the back and too many people were up and dancing and yelling that she couldn't _see_ him, much less distinguish his singing voice properly. The songs she heard so far were okay, the guitar and drums were too loud for her to pick out a beat but for the most part they were decently skilled.

"Not a problem, doll, give me ten minutes after their show and I'll give you Noah Puckerman." Kurt said, sure of himself.

Rachel smiled and twirled her hair in a nervous habit before realizing she was still wearing the wig. Discreetly, she pulled it off and tucked it between the booth seats. "I should probably go freshen up. Quinn?" She gestured to the restrooms and stood, Quinn at her heels.

Once they reached the ladies' room, Quinn let out a whooping sound, "This may just work!"

"I know." Rachel said, biting her lip. "Is this pathetic of me?" She suddenly asked, feeling the weight of what was about to occur.

"Pathetic? How do you mean? You're taking matters in to your own hands, and who says this will all be just a show? You might even end up liking each other, for real." Quinn said.

"Yes, but what if we don't? Or what if he does and I don't? Or vice versa? Or we like each other but then hate each other and then the media harps on _that_? And since when is the media so damn fixated with Broadway stars? I hardly believe Barbra had this much grief when she was doing 'Funny Girl'" Rachel huffed and plopped down on the arm chair in near the sinks.

"That's a lot of 'ifs', Rachel. What if nothing happens and we're here in the same situation a year from now? I mean, we can only do so much before the media finds one thing or another wrong or scandalous about it." Quinn said, "I bet we could become nuns and they would find something controversial with it."

Rachel chuckled. "Well, you _are_ pregnant…"

Quinn smiled and picked her friend up in to a hug, "It'll be fine, okay? Nothing is set in stone."

-_-_-_-_-_-

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Hummel, slow down!" Puck's head was spinning. He was barely off the stage before Kurt pulled him to the side and started talking a mile a minute about their big break and how the only thing Puck needed to do was date that Berry girl and they'd all be gold. "First of all, repeat that. Slowly. Secondly, elaborate more about the whole me dating a movie star, I think I like that part."

"Broadway star," Kurt corrected him, calmly. "Like I just said, Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray need a decoy guy to take Finn's place. I guess since Rachel is never seen out with any other guys, they all think Finn's cheating on Quinn with Rachel…but they're not, they're just all adorable friends and it's so cute that it makes me kinda want to stalk them and take pictures all day… so I could understand why the paparazzi would take interest in them in particular."

Puck blinked and tried again, "Why me?"

"I have no idea." Kurt answered, honestly. "Remember that pregnant Broadway church mom you told me about? That's Quinn and I guess she told Rachel that you were Jewish or something."

"That doesn't even make sense, Kurt. I know you're excited but I'm freakin' sweaty as all hell and my voice is hoarse and this lounge has a broken AC or something because I'm about to pass out from the heat." Puck struggled to unstrap his guitar and finally slid his t-shirt off, breathing a sigh of relief.

"And you call me dramatic! Focus! This is the opportunity of a lifetime, who cares why? And Rachel's Jewish so I guess she liked the idea of picking another Jew?" Kurt said.

"Actually, it was your name." Rachel interrupted from behind them, "I always loved the name Noah and I guess I just took it as a sign, I mean, you can say no, of course. I just thought I'd present the option and take it from there." She said.

"Oh," Puck said, staring at her. "Kurt? Would you mind kindly fucking off for a few minutes so I can chat with Rachel here?"

"Not at all!" Kurt said, gleefully, "Consider me fucked." He bowed and took to stage left.

Rachel laughed to herself and looked up at Puck. "I don't mean to put you on the spot or anything"

"Oh, no, you're not….don't worry about that, I uh, it's just the first time I ever got this particular request…" Puck said, plucking a cigarette from the pile of jackets thrown on the side of the stage.

"To be fair, this is the first time I'm ever proposing such an idea. I would completely understand if you declined." Rachel's voice drifted as he stepped in to one of the spot lights, a glimmer of sweat dripping down his washboard abs, "I, uh, I mean, I appreciate your time." She turned for the exit before his hand took hers.

"I wasn't turning you down, I just needed a cigarette." He said as he lit the tip, inhaling heavily. "So, how would this work? We walk out there tonight and tomorrow the papers think we're an item?"

"Pretty much. They aren't as smart as they consider themselves to be, I'm so glad I never got into journalism…the things people make up once they set their minds to it…it's scary." She said.

"I mean, how long would it take before they stop thinking you and Finn are together? I never so much as signed an autograph, now I'm preparing for paparazzi battleground." He let the cigarette hang loosely between his lips and started to stretch his arms above his head, wrapping his hands around one of the low rafters for better leverage.

Rachel almost fainted, she looked behind her and found a stool to sit on, wondering why it was so suffocating hot all of a sudden and why Quinn didn't come in after ten minutes like she said she would. "Well, I really can't predict what they'll do; they do and write whatever they want. The best I could hope for is that they just leave Finn and Quinn's name out of it from now on."

Puck nodded, stubbing out his half smoked cigarette on the brick wall behind him. "That's really Joan of Arc of you."

"Are you suggesting I'm a martyr?" Rachel gasped, "Because I am not, nor do I want to be. I just care about them is all."

"Hey, don't get so defensive…that's a good thing. I mean, not many people are willing to sacrifice their own privacy for the sake of others." Puck said.

Rachel let out a bitter laugh, "I wouldn't be sacrificing anything, Noah, and I'd just be replacing one name with another."

"Still, I mean, that's good." Puck sat down at the stool across her and smirked. "So, now what? You wanna practice being a couple or what?"

"We won't be making out on the sidewalk!" Rachel gasped, feigning dismay. "All we really need to do is just be seen together more than once and pretty soon, according to _OK!_, we'll be living together and setting a date by the end of this week."

"Wow, I go years without committing to anyone and in one week these guys will be having me proposing?" Puck said, impressed.

"It's scary, isn't it?" Rachel asked.

"Very." He said. "I don't know if you heard but Kurt is fully expecting for this whole charade to boost our non-existent record sales…is that true? I mean, if it is, that's awesome because we're all living on _Ramen Noodles_ but at the same time I don't think I like the idea of someone buying our record because they think I'm dating you. That's kinda warped."

"If the tickets to see my show weren't so expensive I'd be thinking the same thing, to be honest. I still do, though, when someone stops me from an autograph…they don't call me by my character's name, which, as you know is a clear indication that they can only picture you as your character. They call me Rachel and they ask if I saw the Giants game the other night…" Rachel shook her head, "I don't even _like_ football."

Chuckling, he put his hand on her knee, "I guess we can find out together, huh?"

"Yes, I suppose we will." Rachel took a deep breath before speaking, "One thing, though?"

"Yeah?" He asked.

"I can't fake-date smokers, I just can't." Rachel declared.

Puck laughed and bent over to throw the rest of Mike's cigarettes in the trash, deciding to keep the fact that he only smoked when he was nervous (which was never) a secret for now.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_


	4. Chapter 4: Cat Meet Canary

**A/N:** Thank you to all who took a chance on my AU ficlet and a big thank you to Katertots for her lovely feedback. This chapter took a little longer but it's also quite longer, as well, so I hope that makes up for the wait.

-_-_-_

Quinn finally made her entrance while Rachel and Puck were going over some details about how to deal with the paparazzi. "I assume all is going well back here?" She nodded to Puck, "Hey Noah."

"Hey Miss Fabray, thanks for letting me know how big your 'little' Broadway show actually was," Puck laughed.

"Well, you asked what I did other than sing church songs and so I said I dabbled in Broadway…I couldn't go being prideful in church, could I?" Quinn smirked, "So you guys going through with this or what?"

Puck and Rachel glanced at each other before nodding, "In for a penny, in for a pound." Rachel grinned, "As they say."

Quinn yawned, "Well, I'm beat. You guys ready to skedaddle? I sent Finn out to catch us some car service."

"Sure," Puck said, "but taxis generally don't swing by SoHo at this time. We could give it a shot, though."

Sure enough, after ten minutes of walking circles, Quinn stopped and leaned against the wall. "How is this even possible?"

"I don't know." Rachel sighed.

Puck nodded over to the train station across the street, "We could train it." Puck smirked, "Or do you celebs not do trains?"

"I'd go but…" Finn glanced over at Rachel for her to explain.

"I…well, trains are generally very filthy and I can't afford to contract a bacterial disease at this juncture in my career. Missing one show can ruin my chance at the Tonys'." Rachel said, "And have you ever seen the movie '_All About Eve'_? My god, if my understudy ever did that to me I would have a coronary."

"Don't you mean 'canary'?" Puck asked, confused.

Rachel laughed, "I guess either saying goes in this case. However, I'm serious about the bacteria; my guidance counselor from high school would always give us these bizarre facts about all the different germs and viral sicknesses you could catch just by standing near the infected person or item. Once, she even brought pictures." Rachel shivered, "Ick."

"Your guidance counselor sounds like someone I never want to meet." Puck said, "And that was nice of her, you know counseling children on how to be irrationally scared to touch anything."

"Yes, she was a delight. I swear she used to hand out latex gloves in the cafeteria…" Quinn shook her head, "you'd think we were going to school in a dump."

"Oh, man, no school can beat the one I went to," Puck said, "Our football practice consisted of sneaking in to our rivals' field because our school was too cheap to fix ours. We got chased out after twenty minutes each and every time."

"Whoa, dude, you play?" Finn suddenly took interest in the conversation. "The guys and I are planning on having some fun at McKinley Park in Brooklyn this Saturday, you wanna come with?"

Puck stopped dead in his tracks. "Holy shit, did I just get invited to practice with the Giants'?" He almost hugged Finn but held back, clearing his throat. "I mean, yeah, that'll be cool."

"Sweet, I'll let the guys know." Finn said.

"So, Noah, which Broadway plays are you a fan of in particular? I'll give you a pass on not knowing about ours since we're so new." Rachel said.

"Oh. Um," Puck looked back at Finn for an idea while Finn shrugged in return. "I, uh, didn't get to catch any plays just yet. I almost saw The Lion King with my little sister, though."

Rachel was almost about to ask how one can move to New York and never see a Broadway play before Quinn nudged her from behind, shaking her head 'no'. With a sigh, she tried to make her voice sound causal, "Oh, well, that's totally fine. I'm sure we'll be able to catch one soon!"

"Hey, he can come to ours this week, we can get you the best seats" Quinn said, "and you can bring Kurt."

Puck laughed at the thought of Kurt's face when he told him he'd get even better seats to the show he was obsessed with."That would be awesome, Kurt would love it."

"Guys, let's just take the train, we can get Rachel home and then catch a taxi back to our place." Finn said, "How about you, Puck, where do you live?"

"Arou—" Puck started to say.

Suddenly a flash of light interrupted them, "Rachel! Finn! Over here!" A short guy with glasses and a baseball cap started to cross the street to take their picture and Quinn yelped, taking off down to the train station, Finn took her hand and helped her jump the turnstile as Rachel and Puck followed close by.

The photographer snapped one last shot as the four of them boarded the train.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

"_**Rachel and Mystery Guy Take the Train of Shame"**_

By Sue Sylvester

"_It appears our beloved Broadway doll of Jubilee and alleged mistress of the Giants' Finn Hudson has finally decided to take a break from destroying her co-stars' sham of a marriage by taking midnight strolls with Noah Puckerman, a handyman originally from Lima, Ohio who now resides in Williamsburg, Brooklyn __and struggles to pay rent by playing at various grungy bars in the downtown area.__ Our own Jacob Isreal snapped this incriminating photo just before Berry and Puckerman boarded the Uptown 6 train a little past 2AM, accompanied by Hudson and Fabray, who aren't pictured. _

"_I was actually on my way home," Jacob tells us, "when I saw Finn on the corner. I knew Rachel had to be close by but when I got up there, Quinn was with him while Rachel and Noah were holding hands and whispering to each other. It was only when I called to get their attention that they broke apart, heading for the subway station. They didn't even pay to get in, I don't know if the station attendant was asleep or what but they all jumped over the turnstile to get away from me but I did see Berry and Puckerman kiss as the train pulled out of the station, Finn Hudson definitely looked upset while Quinn just tried to hold back tears." Well, there you have it folks, from one of our own photographers. Whether it was a double date gone wrong or Rachel's quest to make Finn jealous, we don't know. I can tell you that we will get to the bottom of Rachel Berry's latest indiscretions and we'll have it all here, on SueCee's Tab._

_If anyone has any candids of Noah Puckerman, please e-mail us her.e _

_-_-_-_-_-_-

Rachel Berry's cell phone buzzed to life from her nightstand and she groaned, half-asleep, swatting at it. The buzzing continued before she finally shook herself awake to answer it.

"Hello?" she blinked the sleep from her eyes and yawned.

"It's already in the papers," Quinn said, "except Sue is reporting that not only were you and Noah practically making out, Finn and I looked on in jealousy, can you believe that? I e-mailed you the article, by the way. The picture they got of you guys is actually pretty cute but I swear I'm going to track down that Sylvester bitch and punch her in the face."

"Oh, no," Rachel finally got up from her bed and rushed to her laptop, opening Quinn's e-mail and skimming the article while her friend continued to describe all the ways Sue Sylvester was going to suffer. "For Pete's sake, why did she have to make up that part about you and Finn?"

"Because she's an old hag with nothing better to do, obviously." Quinn said.

"People can't possibly believe this idiocy, you and I are seen together a lot more than me and Finn!" Rachel sighed, "Whatever, I'm not going to worry about it. At least they got Noah in the picture, however false the details are."

"Speaking of, what happened after Finn and me got off at our stop?" Rachel could hear the smile in Quinn's voice.

"Nothing happened, he walked me to my door and we made plans to have dinner tonight." Rachel said, "Kurt is actually taking him out this afternoon to find the proper attire for the occasion."

"Oh, good, I'll see if I can get Finn to go with them. I swear that boy just walks in to American Eagle and buys the first outfit they show him." Quinn said, laughing, "He's scared to go in to any other store ever since he went in to _Barneys_ and they talked him into buying a $300 wallet to go with his thousand dollar wardrobe."

_Beep_

"That's my other line, Quinn, I'll call you back, okay?" Rachel said, glancing down at the caller ID.

"Ok, see ya."

Rachel braced herself as she switched the call.

"Hi Daddy!" Rachel tried to sound cheerful and upbeat.

"Rachel Lorraine Berry, what did I tell you about staying out of the papers?" Her father asked, sternly.

"It's not like I go out there waving for their attention, Daddy! That was completely out of my hands." Rachel sighed.

"I know, sweetie, but what is this Sue woman talking about? Who is Noah Puckerman, why was my daughter kissing him and is he Jewish?"

"Just someone Quinn knew, he's a…" Rachel quickly tried to find another word for 'maintenance man' and finally blurted, "singer! And yes he's Jewish but we weren't kissing. You know better than to believe the senseless blathering of Sue Sylvester, ever since I beat out her daughter Brittany for the lead in _Jubilee _she has been breathing down my back with all this tabloid fodder."

"Don't you worry, Berry Bug, I'll go over this with Thomas and he'll put a stop to it." Daddy promised.

Rachel groaned inwardly, the last thing she needed was her Daddy getting her Dad involved. Just because Dad has his own section in The Village Voice, he thought with a flicker of his pen everything will be alright. "No, no, Daddy, that's fine. I can take care of it, okay?"

"If you say so, honey. Look, I have to go take Liza for a run, I'll call you later and we can make plans for some Cotes de Veau au Fromage at _Morea_, okay?"

Rachel smiled to herself; Daddy had wanted to take her to their special spot ever since their last visit got cut short by an emergency business meeting in Connecticut. "Okay, Daddy, au revoir! And remember not to run Liza too fast, the veterinarian said she was getting arthritis."

"Will do, Berry Bug. Love you."

"Love you too, Daddy."

Ending the call, Rachel plopped down on her couch. Sometimes she wondered how her life turned in to a Soap Opera. Before she could put much thought in to it, though, her phone rang and she rolled her eyes, expecting her father to call her back with one last piece of advice. The number was private and she made a face, she hated answering blocked calls.

"Hello?"

"Rachel? It's Kurt, I'm here with Puck and Finn and they insisted I call you for reassurance that buying a $450 dollar tie from _Freemans_ was completely normal." Kurt's voice dripped with exasperation.

Rachel laughed, "Okay, first things first? Take me off speaker."

"Voila. What else?" Kurt pressed the phone to his ear and scurried away to a corner.

"They do know _Freemans_ isn't billing you guys per my request?" Ever since Rachel promised to take the staff and crew to one of the showings of _Jubilee_ and sing at their Christmas revelry, the owner told her she would get one visit, free of charge.

"Yes but Puck is insisting he pays, I don't know what's wrong with him, his credit score is lower than a snake's belly." Kurt sighed.

"Ugh, would you mind letting me speak with him?"

"Not at all, darling," Kurt brought the phone over to Puck and grinned conspiratorially.

"Puck here," Puck's voice came over the line and she smirked, trying to picture him in a place like _Freemans_.

"Noah, I know the owner. They won't be charging you for this visit, please allow Kurt to dress you."

"You sure they're not charging? Because there aren't any price tags and Kurt isn't even bothering to ask." Puck sounded worried, "He's gone completely insane, I never seen this look in his eyes before."

"Kurt knows they aren't charging, believe me, they don't mind." Rachel promised. "And I'm sure you guys will be fine, I'll meet you at Finn's around 6 o'clock, then?"

"Will do," Puck said, "Hold on a sec, Kurt wants to say something."

"Rachel? It's me, Kurt; I just wanted to know if the visit included a haircut? Their best barber is in and I would absolutely die if I could get my hair sculpted from the hands of his majesty."

"Go ahead, Kurt, just tell him Rachel said thanks and she'll be serenading him come New Years, as well." She laughed.

_-_-_-_-_

Puck looked in the mirror at the Fabray-Hudson household for what must have been the tenth time. "Guys, I don't know." He fingered his upturned collar and patted it down, "You sure I don't look like a fruit?" Puck was dressed head to toe in a wool hopsack single-button black sport jacket with notched lapel, welt pockets and three-button placket at cuffs, his pants were of the same material, and his shirt was a crisp white, contrasting his black suit. The shoes he wore were black shiny leather by _Salvatore Ferragamo_ an Italian designer Kurt said could make anyone, even Puck, look slick. He wasn't sure what he meant by that but at least they were comfortable.

Kurt materialized from around the corner and turned Puck's collar up again, "I swear on Judy, Puck, if you touch that again I'm going to snip your fingers off."

"Noah, it looks great, Rachel will love it." Quinn said, enjoying the scene before her, Kurt stealthily spritzing cologne on Puck while Puck swatted him away like a fly.

"Who said anything about Rachel loving it? I don't care if she loves it." Puck attempted to loosen his tucked in shirt when Kurt stomped his foot.

"Noah Puckerman! Stop fidgeting!" Kurt stood back to survey his handiwork, hand on chin.

"Dude, you're turning me in to a Backstreet Boy, I have reason to fidget!" Puck finally stepped away from the mirror and sat on the lazy boy, ready to call the whole thing off. He stood again when Kurt glared at him, remembering he wasn't supposed to sit on anything comfortable because it would wrinkle his suit. He stood and sat at the kitchen counter instead; pout firmly taking residence on his lips.

"Oh, please, you look better than them. Just stop the nervous twitching and you should be golden." Kurt took a seat on the couch, crossing his legs and waving his hand dismissively.

"I'm not nervous," Puck glanced down at his new watch, "Wasn't she supposed to be here at six?"

"Is that what she said?" Quinn stifled a laugh, "Usually when Rachel actually gives you a time, it means at least thirty minutes from when she's actually arriving. She wants to make sure they get there first so she doesn't have to wait."

"Oh," Puck said, a little miffed, "So, where are we going again?" He actually didn't care where they went, he just wanted to keep conversation alive until Rachel arrived, afraid he would realize how ridiculous it all was and how he didn't belong in a $2,300 suit, sitting in Finn Hudson's penthouse on West 77th street that overlooked Central Park, a park he called home his first month living in New York City. He didn't like to relive that particular experience by telling anyone, Kurt already knew, hell, he's the one that found Puck playing his guitar on a bench, singing _Desperado_ to a growing crowd of people. When Kurt heard how good he was, he promptly offered him a job as a bouncer at a club he was managing at the time, said he'd only give him the job if he played there on the weekends, too. Pretty soon not only was he playing, Kurt had found more guys and before he knew it, he was living in an apartment with Mike Chang, the drummer, and playing gigs every week. Now he fiddled with his $600 dollar watch and hoped he didn't accidentally break it.

"If she wants you guys to be seen, it's probably going to be the _Marea. _Her Dads have been taking her there every time they're in the city so the paparazzi know that's one of the places to stake out." Quinn informed, "Personally, I can't stand French food… I never know what I'm ordering."

"Speaking of, Puck, when they ask you what you'd like to order, let Rachel order for the two of you." Kurt said, "I remember last time I brought you and Mike with me to that place on 5th, you managed to order monkey brains." He shivered, "Never again."

"Hey, man, you want a beer to relax?" Finn came in from the kitchen with a Corona.

"I am relaxed," Puck took the beer and swigged it, "I don't look relaxed?" He drank some more and walked around the island in the kitchen, upturning random knickknacks before studying the pictures Quinn arranged on the refrigerator. There was one where Rachel and Quinn had their arms crossed and their backs to each other, giving the camera their best "bitchy" glare. Rachel just looked like a pouty duck and he smiled, moving on to the next picture. This one had "Glee!" written on it and everyone had their hands up, shaped like an "L". On second inspection, he found Finn in the back. "Dude, Finn, you were in Glee?"

"Mmhm," Finn laughed, sitting next to Quinn on the couch, "Quinn joined first and after my Spanish teacher heard me singing he blackmailed me in to joining. I'm glad I did, though, those kids were amazing."

Quinn giggled and flipped the TV on, "It's gonna be awhile until Rachel makes her grand entrance, you guys up for some _American Idol_?"

Puck laid his head back on his seat and took another swig in response.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

By the time Rachel arrived at the house, everyone (sans Quinn) had enough time to get drunk enough to start singing along with the contestants on _American Idol_. Kurt was belting out "I can bitch, I can bitch …`cause I'm better than you, it's the way that I move, the things that I do!" with a pepper grinder in his hand as his microphone. Finn was using wooden spoons on pots in the kitchen and Puck was strumming his air guitar while Quinn held her cell phone up to catch everything on tape. Puck was in the middle of singing, "stone cold sober as a matter of fact!" (Which he really wasn't) when he turned to see Rachel standing there, brows raised, arms crossed and a light smile playing on her face. She was wrapped in a black lace sheath dress with a scalloped V-neckline, the waistline drew in tighter, and her hair fell in loose curls around her face. Puck dropped his invisible guitar, gaping. When she took in his outfit, she nearly jumped him then and there before she remembered they weren't _really_ together and that just because he looked incredible, didn't mean her hormones suddenly had free reign of her self-composure. Because she _had_ control. She really did.

The look on Puck's face told her she didn't look half-bad herself and she smiled, suddenly not caring that he was probably so drunk that she could have been wearing a sweat suit, just as well. "Wow." He breathed.

Quinn turned her cell phone to Rachel and let out a whistle, "Hot mama, where in the hell did you buy that dress and how did I not already steal it?"

"It was on sale at _Neiman Marcus_ for $495, can you believe it?" Rachel ran her hands down the sides of the dress, still surprised a dress that cheap can look so good.

"That's like, half my rent," Puck laughed disbelieving, "you look amazing, Rachel." His voice wavered as his eyes kept dipping down her body.

Kurt nodded approvingly, "Your babies will be beautiful," he slurred, "And if you have a boy, you better name him after me."

Puck laughed and stumbled forward, taking Rachel's hand, "We will name him Kermit."

Rachel just sighed and pulled him toward the door, "Thanks for liquoring him up, guys, it's appreciated!"

"Anytime!" Quinn yelled after them as the door closed.

Rachel pressed the button for the elevator and snuck another glance back and Puck, who was really interested in the map on the wall indicating that they were "Here!"

"Whoa, this is like, the top floor." He started to run his finger along the numbers on the map that labeled each floor. "Like, the top top."

"Yep, we're on the top top." Suddenly a thought came to her and she frowned, "Hey, you'll be okay on the elevator down, right?"

"Of course," Puck laughed, "I'm not that drunk." He started to stare at her, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"What?" Rachel asked, suspicious.

"You're really pretty."

"Usually I would thank you for that flattery but you're also really drunk," Rachel said, "And I can't really take what a drunken person says as the truth. Even though in this case I am quite aware of my looks tonight, so I guess I will thank you."

"Good," Puck said as they stepped on to the elevator, "And I'm actually just very buzzed, not drunk. And you talk a lot."

"Your alcohol infested brain can't keep up with me; I'm actually not talking a lot at all." Rachel said, grinning.

"Whatever you say, Berry." Puck took her hand as the elevator dinged to the ground level, "Ready for the cameras?"

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Arriving at the _Marea_ was almost like arriving at a grand ballroom, if that grand ballroom came equip with its very own paparazzi hiding in the parking lot and behind random street poles. The flashes of lights were blinding and Puck had half a mind to take out his switch blade and cut the first guy to step any closer. The alcohol was slowly fading in to the recess of his mind and the intense lights were giving him the biggest headache he's had, well, ever. The feel of Rachel's hand in his helped, though, she was pretending to be very annoyed by the cameras and pulled him faster than he was willing to travel in his blurred state. "Whoa, Rachel, can we not go that fast? I have a dizzy thing going on here."

"Dizzy thing?" Rachel asked, laughing, "These guys want to give us an epileptic seizure and you want us to slow-down?"

"Aren't we _supposed_ to be getting our pictures all taken and shit?" Puck's attention to tact got left behind in the taxi pulling away behind them, "Excuse my French."

"We can't act like we want our picture taken, then they'll suspect we're fake." she whispered, irritated at his incessant questioning while the paparazzi took advantage of their stalled position in the middle of the street. "I'm going to laugh, you just keep holding my hand then we'll rush in to the restaurant, okay?"

Her voice was swallowed by the passing ambulance and he just nodded, too confused and nauseous to ask her to repeat herself, he was about to suggest they make a run for the restaurant before she started to laugh, loudly. He just blinked at her before another flash of light came from behind them this time.

Rachel tugged at his arm, "Okay, let's go!"

Puck followed, in a blur of lights and shouting. He was weary to believe this was the same New York he lived in for three years, where did all the paparazzi hide? How did he not see more celebrities get mobbed in all his city adventures?

"Is this Noah Puckerman?" One photog yelled.

"How 'handy' is he in bed?" Another quipped.

"Are you still in love with Finn?"

"Rachel, is this your 'rebel' phase?"

Puck sighed and pushed through the crowd, finally helped inside by the doorman.

"Holy crap," he said, "Where did they all come from?"

They were led to their booth in the back before Rachel spoke, "That was actually a little more than I'm used to, I guess Sue's article actually had an impact." She sounded surprised.

"Sue?" Puck let the host take his jacket and sat down, inspecting the 20 pieces of utensils that were laid out before him.

"She's just a reporter that hates me; I got the lead in the play and not her daughter so she has some personal vendetta against me. Anyway, she wrote about us in today's _Post_ and I guess now the paps are really in it for the 'real' story." Rachel finished with a shrug and head shake, sipping her lemon water.

"We were in the paper?" he asked, impressed. "Cool."

"Yes, it's what we wanted, right?" Rachel laughed, "I just wish they wouldn't add so much imaginary bull…" She sighed, holding back.

"C'mon, you can say it, I know you want to." Puck grinned.

Rachel took another breath. "Shit. Such bullshit, it's unbelievable." She appeared to relax and he had to hold in his laugh.

"You're really something, you know that?"

"Oh, hardly," She waved a dismissive hand, "so, what are you in the mood for?"

"I'm actually under strict orders to let you pick out our meal." He said, laughing.

"Fair enough," she smiled, "How do you like snail?"

"I actually don't think I've ever had the pleasure of having snail," he wrinkled his nose, "How about chicken?"

"Chicken it is," she flipped her menu closed, "I actually don't need this, my Dads' have been taking me here since I was a kid, I know it by heart."

Puck took in his surroundings, the music flowing lightly through the speakers and the elegant décor all around, the prim and proper people eating and discussing their days in a hushed tone. Everything a secret, everything under cover. He suddenly felt the weight of his inadequacy to even live in a city that had these types of places. He wondered if he were still slightly drunk.

"Is there a wine list?" he asked.

-_-_-_-_-_

By the end of the night they were both feeling the effects of the fine white wine the Maître d' brought over to them "on the house". It amazed Puck how many free things rich people got when they're the only ones who could afford it. "The food in there was incredible," He announced.

"Yeah, my dads are going to be so pissed when they see that I was here with you before them," Rachel laughed heartily, her cheeks rosy from the glass of wine she had.

"You're such a light weight, Berry," he chuckled, "ready to go home?"

Rachel walked along side him and slid her arm in his, "Ready when you are, good sir." She smiled wide, her wide eyes looking up at him. "Hey, that reminds me. Do you really live in Brooklyn?" There was amusement in her voice and he faltered, not sure what she meant by that.

"Is there something wrong with Brooklyn?" he blurted, regretting the defensive tone in his voice as soon as the words left his lips.

"Other than Brooklyn being a world away from Manhattan, no, I really can't find anything wrong with it." Her response was unaffected by the tone of his and he smiled, relieved. "I just ask because if I ever wanted to see where you lived, I'd have quite the trip ahead of me."

He laughed at her lack of discretion in her tipsy state, "Well, don't worry, I'm in the part of Brooklyn that's actually not all that far from the city."

"Oh, good." she squinted in to the distance, "Is that car yellow?"

He followed her gaze, "Yes, it's a taxi."

"Hey! Yellow Cab! Over here!" Her voice carried the five blocks over and his jaw dropped in amazement as the taxi actually turned around and headed for them.

"I can't believe that worked,"

"You want to take the ride with me?" Rachel fluttered her lashes at him and he slid an arm around her waist to help her in to the cab, his hand lingering near her hips when she sat down.

He placed a light kiss on her temple, "If you promise to direct me to the nearest train station afterward," he said, climbing in next to her.

"Oh, that's easy; it's near that museum on that street." She mumbled, making a niche on his shoulder for her to rest her head on.

He left his arm wrapped around her waist and sighed, breathing in the coconut scent of her hair. "That all?"

"Mmhm, you just need know where the museum is and you're all set." She slipped her hand in his. He wondered who they were putting the show on for now? The taxi driver? The Maître d' watching from the door? Was it practice or just the alcohol?

He rested his head on the ripped leather seat as the car pulled away and pulled the warm body closer to him. He didn't care.

-_-_-_-_-_-


End file.
